


C'est La Vie

by Cat_Moon



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, Trope Bingo Round 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 12:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Cat_Moon
Summary: Team Torchwood tangle with a Matchmaker.  Sort of.





	C'est La Vie

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Trope Bingo fill, “Matchmaker.”  
Takes place later in the 2nd season, but Owen is still alive. Yes there are pairings, but telling would be spoiling. ;)  
Yeah, I turned this trope on its ear too. So sue me.

**C'EST LA VIE**

“I'm in,” Owen said.

“I don't think this is a good idea...” Toshiko told them, eyeing the piece of tech on her desk as if it was a snake about to strike.

“C'mon, Tosh, it's just a bit of fun, right?” he coaxed.

“I'm in too,” Gwen said, having made up her mind after what was probably too brief consideration.

Ianto threw her a look, but remained silent, as he had the whole time they'd been having this discussion. He wasn't quite sure where he stood on the idea.

_Here there be monsters._

“Jack told us not to touch it.” Tosh looked at Ianto. “He told _you_ to put it in the secure archives.”

Jack had, in fact, paled when he'd seen what the rift had spit out, looking terrified for a few moments, until he'd put on his neutral face and firmly ordered Ianto to lock it up and throw away the key. A reaction totally out of proportion to the lack of real threat – or so Owen had insisted. Fortunately (or unfortunately, the jury was still out), Jack had left for a meeting right after, not staying long enough to make sure his directive was followed.

“What you are afraid of Tosh?” Gwen asked. “Whatever happens, even if we don't like it, it'll be for our own good.”

Ianto snorted, but didn't offer his opinion of that. He could imagine only too easily what Gwen was thinking, hoping... They might get what they deserved all right. Heartbreak may be for one's own good, but seeking it out purposely was an exercise in self destruction. Not that Ianto wasn't on intimate terms with that particular vice.

“What if Jack lied,” Tosh lobbed the accusation out, was met with silence.

Ianto finally spoke up. “The device is listed on the archive database.” Everyone looked at him, so he reluctantly continued. “Torchwood appropriated one from an alien dealer in the 1940s. It's exactly what Jack said it was.”

“What happened to that one?” Owen asked.

“They ended up destroying it. Someone shot it into a million pieces with a Colt 45, apparently.”

“Why?” Gwen might have been rethinking her decision.

“They didn't like what it told them.”

Torchwood had named the device, “The Matchmaker.” It was created by an advanced alien race called the Xfloriens, and was a sort of super computer used by their dating services. It scanned the brains of those looking for true love, and compared them to the results collected in its database. It also used information gathered from a wide variety of sources and was especially suited to environments that had advanced communications such as computers, the cloud. It was the ultimate hacker of everything. It then found your perfect match, and was said to be 100% accurate.

Of course humans weren't as logical as other species, and they tended to be contrary beings. The reports were vague, but it seemed as if Torchwood Three hadn't dealt well with their destiny back in 1948. The Matchmaker didn't have much to work with in those days though, no sophisticated networks, so perhaps that's why the results were less than satisfactory. Still, despite the rather ominous ending to the prior experiment, Ianto found it dangerously...tempting.

“You don't even believe in soul mates,” Tosh told Owen, still trying to dissuade them. He was the key instigator as usual. Unfortunately, they usually seemed to follow him in the end.

“Yeah, I do,” Owen told her shortly. “Mine is dead.”

Another uncomfortable silence followed, until Gwen went over to Tosh and put a hand on her arm. “Maybe it will match you up with someone nice you can spend time outside of Torchwood with,” she reasoned. “It would do you good to have a bit of a life, Pet.”

“Why do _you_ want to use it,” Ianto tossed the metaphorical grenade into the fray so that Tosh could escape. “You're happily married.”

When Owen snickered, she turned to him in a huff. “It's just a bit of fun, right? Besides, it might not even find any perfect matches. If it does, mine will be Rhys of course.”

“Of course,” Owen answered sardonically, clearly not convinced of her motives. “Okay, enough discussion. Who's in? Decide.”

“In,” Gwen stated defiantly.

“Fine,” Tosh caved. “If everybody else is doing it.” She glanced at Ianto, who had yet to make his opinion known.

“You're going to feel really stupid when it fixes you up with your left hand, Owen,” Ianto snarked.

“Just means I'm perfect for myself, which I already know. In or out, Tea-boy.”

_You've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky?_

“In.”

They all gathered closer to the Matchmaker, watching as Owen pressed the button that would start the process. Everyone present would be scanned. There was no sound or sensation, just the light on the machine glowing faintly.

“Now what?” Gwen asked after a few minutes, when the red light had turned to green.

Before anyone could answer, several pings and assorted noises filled the air, indicating incoming text messages. Everyone took out their mobile phones.

“The Bootlegger, tonight 8:00pm,” Owen read his text aloud. “Looks like I'm getting lucky tonight.”

“I've got a reservation for the Clink at 8:30,” Gwen told them, a tinge of anticipation in her voice.

“Isn't that a _prison_,” Owen said in amusement.

“I hear the food is very good,” she defended. “Been wanting to try it, but haven't gotten the chance.”

“The Admiral, at St. David's,” Ianto read off, a bit stunned.

“Ooh, fancy,” Gwen teased. “What about you, Tosh?”

“Oh, uh... no match,” she told them, hastily putting her phone away.

“Oh, Tosh...” Gwen opened her mouth to offer her sympathy.

“It's fine,” Tosh hurriedly assured. “I'm not interested in a relationship right now, anyway.”

“Of course you aren't,” Gwen concurred. “So soon after Tommy...”

“Alright, I'm putting that thing away, and I suggest we all get back to work before Jack returns.” Ianto interrupted, to rescue Tosh from the embarrassing attention.

Owen rubbed his hands together. “Right. Not a word then, agreed?”

XXX

Later on, when Jack and Owen were out wrangling a couple of weevils and Gwen gone on an errand, Ianto approached Toshiko. “You got a match, didn't you?”

After a hesitation, she nodded.

“Don't tell me...”

“The Bootlegger,” she murmured.

He wasn't sure whether to offer condolences or congratulations. “What are you going to do?”

“I don't know. Nothing, I guess.”

“Maybe you should go. Maybe it's not him. Could be you just got the same place.”

“You think?”

“Not really. But... if you want to, you should go. The Matchmaker is supposed to know who our perfect matches are. Maybe you two just need a push.”

“Maybe I'll be the one to blow the device to smithereens this time,” Tosh countered. “What about you? Are you going to go find out who yours is?” she glanced briefly in the direction of Jack's office. “What if--”

“I made my choice, as did we all,” Ianto interrupted. “C'est la vie.”

“Wouldn't Que Sera Sera be more appropriate?”

“We work for Torchwood. I find 'Shit happens' about covers it.”

XXX

The décor was casual, with a clever bootlegging theme. Did the Matchmaker have a sense of humor? Tosh had arrived at the pub at 7:30, needing the time to settle her nerves. She sat uneasily glancing at her watch as she drank the cocktail she'd gotten for courage. Two sides of her warred with each other, stay or go. No telling how Owen would react. He could be a prat... but then he would do something sweet and she would see a glimpse of the real Owen behind all his defenses. She knew he was lonely, just like her. But he filled his emptiness by getting drunk and going on the pull. She'd hoped that one day he would realize... Maybe this was her chance.

No, it was a terrible idea. It would make working together awkward and horrible. Take a chance? Play it safe? Stay or go?

At 7:51, Tosh downed her drink and headed for the exit. She was fumbling to get her keys out of her purse as she pushed the door open, only to literally run into someone. She started to mumble an apology as she looked up...

At Owen.

“Oh.”

“Tosh, what are you...” Owen's words trailed off as his brain obviously caught up to the implications. They stood there uncomfortably, until another patron pushed past them to get inside. “Well,” he said.

“Yeah,” she answered. Nope, not awkward at all.

“You were leaving?”

“Yes, I mean, it's all too weird, isn't it?”

“Right.”

“I should go,” she turned to leave.

“Wait, Tosh,” Owen stopped her. “You're here, I'm here. No reason we can't have a drink.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Not that I believe in all that Matchmaker bollocks, mind you,” he said, leading her to a table by the window.

“Never used a dating service then?” Tosh couldn't help asking. Just a hint. She wasn't going to scare him off by pointing out the obvious: it was perfectly scientific, and scanning people's minds added a layer of accuracy that their own terrestrial services couldn't equal.

“Don't need one,” Owen answered.

Tosh wondered about that. It had been Owen's idea after all, he'd been the one to convince the rest of them to use the Matchmaker. Was it just for fun, as he'd insisted, or something more?

“Do you fancy some dinner?” he asked her after they'd been served their drinks.

“I could do with a nosh,” Tosh answered, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. It looked like she was on a date with Owen after all. What happened in the future, well, que sera sera.

XXX

Gwen stood in front of the restaurant door, nerves gnawing her stomach. The moment of truth was upon her, and she was wondering if she could handle it. It felt like the pivotal moment of her entire life, and everything would change from the moment she stepped inside. Whatever awaited her on the other side though, she was going to face it. Taking a deep breath, she resolutely pushed open the door.

Gwen walked in and looked around, seeking a familiar face. Any familiar face. She'd purposely arrived late so that her match would already be there, giving her the advantage of forewarning.

Then she saw him, sitting at a table in the corner. Looking quite dashing, if she did say so herself. She broke into a genuine and relieved smile as she walked over to the table to join him.

“Oh, Rhys.”

Her husband got up to greet her. “Gwen, I knew it was you when I got that mysterious text today. I mean, not likely anyone else would be having me meet them for dinner, but...”

“They'd better not!” she told him in amusement, letting him pull out her chair for her.

“What's this all about then?”

“I just wanted to surprise you,” Gwen said, kissing him lightly. “We've been wanting to try this place out, haven't we?”

“That we have.”

Gwen settled into her chair, a feeling of peace infusing her. Contentment. The past was over, the future was now, and sitting across from her. It was a good feeling.

XXX

The table top was fascinating. The white tablecloth was pristine, he figured they must bleach them at night. After all, surely not everyone who dined there was an immaculate eater, they must spill some food once in awhile. Or the wine, those stains could be a challenge to remove...

“Ianto Jones.”

_Moment of truth._

Ianto slowly raised his eyes. He tried really, really hard not to smile. Put in a valiant effort, but it was a losing battle. He couldn't help himself. He beamed. “Jack Harkness, I presume.”

Jack laughed as he pulled out a chair and sat down, picking up a menu. “I really ought to be more put out that my people refuse to follow orders,” he casually remarked.

The smile left Ianto's face in a hurry. He swallowed. The jig was up, as they say. “Of course.”

And then their eyes met, and suddenly the rest of the room didn't exist. It hit that way sometimes. Caught as he was in Jack's web. For a moment it was wonderful... until unwelcome thoughts intruded, as they too often did. What if the _only_ reason Jack was there was because he'd found out they'd used the machine?

All at once retreat seemed the better part of valor. Ianto hastily started to rise, only to have Jack's hand grab his to prevent his escape.

_Trapped._

“How did you know?” Ianto whispered.

“Strange text message, with no obvious point of origin. Owen looking shifty, Tosh fidgeting, Gwen distracted. You hiding. Hub security cameras.” Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket and put it on the table where Ianto could see the text message, identical to the one he'd gotten himself.

The Admiral, 9:00 pm.

Ianto went from terrified back to giddy again so fast he almost got whiplash.

_Ah well. There's a little bit of teenage girl in all of us._

“There's one thing I need to know,” Jack said, looking uncomfortable. “The truth.”

“All right,” Ianto acquiesced.

“Were you hoping it was me...or hoping it_ wasn't?"_

The emotion that filled Ianto was unfamiliar at first. It took him a moment to name it, as it had been so long since he'd felt such a thing. It was happiness. He leaned over, and right there, right in the middle of the restaurant, in public, he kissed Jack on the lips.

Ianto pulled away to meet a bemused Jack's eyes. “I _knew_ it was you.”

**the end**

9/20/19


End file.
